


Rules of Order

by siderealOtaku



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Boot Worship, Bottom Hubert von Vestra, Cock Rings, Collars, Exhibitionism, Hubert is a footstool, Leashes, M/M, Naked Male Clothed Male, Petplay, Politics, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top Ferdinand von Aegir, also dirty vegetable mentions, domferd, literally fucking in the middle of a meeting, subbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21863905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siderealOtaku/pseuds/siderealOtaku
Summary: Ferdinand von Aegir has an unpleasant meeting that he really doesn't want to be attending. He provides his own entertainment.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 7
Kudos: 108





	Rules of Order

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Ferdibert Discord Server](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Ferdibert+Discord+Server).



> for the Ferdibert Discord Server cause they're the best

  
Baron Bertolomew von Guggenheimr had been waiting ages to get this meeting. He knew he couldn't give up now. The vegetable harvest had been pitiful this year, and, as much as he regretted to admit it, his lands needed some sort of Imperial aid if they were going to survive the winter. 

He had figured that he might be pushed off on some minor official, his issues deemed too small to involve anyone of actual importance. He had been surprised but pleased to know that Prime Minister von Aegir himself would be handling his case. 

Well. Had been pleased until he actually _got_ here, that was. Even being pushed off on the most minor of palace officials, or forced to wait another month or two, would have been preferable to this. To the Prime Minister dressed in casual riding gear, the Minister of the Imperial Household seated at his feet like some prized hunting dog, clad in nothing but a blood-red leather collar and leash set that matched the Minister's shiny boots.

"P-Prime Minister, this is....entirely...." 

"Do take a seat, von Guggenheimr," Von Aegir responded calmly, gesturing to an empty chair with a flippant wave of his hand. He himself took a much larger, more sumptuous chair - this was clearly some sort of private office or study, designed for the Prime Minister's comfort rather than that of visitors. The utterly nude Minister of the Imperial Household did not greet their guest. Rather, he lowered himself onto his hands and knees, canting his head downward submissively as von Aegir cavalierly kicked up his legs and began to use the other man as a boot-rest. 

The always skittish Bertolomew found himself shaking even more than usual as he lowered his ponderous bulk into the hard, wooden guest chair. He cleared his throat. He tried to look at anything besides the naked Minister at his feet. (He failed.) 

"Well, go on," said von Aegir, finger-combing his long orange locks with a look of complete disaffection. "You had a petition to bring before Her Majesty, did you not? And I am here to hear it, am I not?" 

"E...ergh..." von Guggenheimr stammered. He wanted to run his hands through his own hair like the Prime Minister was doing, but his own head boasted no more than a few chunks of lank, thinning brown locks. He did not wish to bring attention to his near-balding state, especially when sharing a room with von Aegir's internationally famous waterfall of flame-hued tresses. 

"The Prime Minister's time is limited, von Guggenheimr, and you are _wasting_ it." A new voice. Low and guttural. Bertolomew looked in confusion at the obviously silent Prime Minister, before (with utmost reluctance) lowering his eyes to the man kneeling on the floor. 

Minister von Vestra was glaring up at him with a look of pure poisonous hate in his single visible eye. Somehow, the fact that he was naked save for a collar did nothing to diminish how utterly _intimidating_ his gaze was. 

"Hubie, my hound!" Von Aegir sounded furious, reprimanding his fellow Minister much as one would a particularly ill-trained dog. "You know how much I like it when you come snarling to my defense like that, but did I not command you to remain _silent_ during this meeting?" 

Von Guggenheimr's ears certainly had to be deceiving him. The utterly terrifying Minister of the Imperial Household, the Emperor's Shadow, one of the Adrestian Empire's most notorious killers and torturers, surely could not have just _whined_. Could not have produced that high, desperate keening noise, more canine than human. 

But he had, and it seemed to have pleased von Aegir as well, because he leaned down to ruffle the other man's hair. "Oh, you know I can't stay mad at you...but you have to behave. You're making me look quite ridiculous in front of my guest. You will have to be punished. You know what is expected of you, so get to it." He removed his legs from the nude Minister's back, placing them instead on the floor as he turned to address his guest as casually as though he had been discussing the latest teas imported from Almyra. 

"Well, do go on, my dear Baron." 

Von Guggenheimr had told himself not to look. Now, he couldn't tear his eyes away. The terrifying Hubert von Vestra was licking and kissing his way up von Aegir's right boot, undoing the laces with his sharp teeth as he went. The Prime Minister kept his steady gaze on his guest, as though nothing at all was happening below. 

The Baron cleared his throat. He had to get out of this situation as soon as possible. This was some sort of...farce, or joke. It had to be. The Prime Minister absolutely - could not- be pulling so tightly on von Vestra's leash that the pale man was beginning to gasp and choke as he continued his delicate ministrations against the red leather. This wasn't happening. It just _wasn't._

Turning to study an elaborately patterned tea set on the Prime Minister's desk - anything but the ongoing scene - von Guggenheimr finally began to speak. His speech was rough, unpolished, even though he had practiced it several times before this meeting. Instead, the words tumbled out of him, as though eager to leave his mouth as quickly as possible so this horrible meeting could end at last. 

"A-as you know, Prime Minister, the von Guggenheimr lands are, primarily, er, agricultural in nature." That had been a noise of wordless agreement from von Aegir. NOT a moan. It couldn't have been. 

"W-we are a small Barony, true, but we have always been happy and proud to produce...a number of....vegetables for the Empire...." He heard something _wet_ and _slick_. His eyes betrayed him, and turned back to the two men. Now von Vestra was seated on von Aegir's lap, facing forwards. The new position blatantly showed off that he was wearing one thing other than the collar: a wide golden ring around the base of his...

Von Guggenheimr tried to look away once again. Really he did. But he could do so no longer. 

"Remind me again, Baron, what sorts of crops your lands are known for producing?" Von Aegir's voice was calm and level, even as his "hound" squirmed on his lap, even as his fingers pistoned rapidly out of von Vestra's willing, waiting hole.

"S-squash, zucchini, er, carrots...eggplant..." Why oh why did they have to be THOSE vegetables? And when had the Prime Minister's pants become unlaced? 

"A-anyway, a number of...useful vegetables, only this past year...the harvest was...extremely poor." Von Aegir was larger than von Vestra. He had never needed to know that. He wished he still didn't.

"A-and we were, unfortunately, unable, to er...pay our taxes..." Somehow, von Vestra was still glaring at him with that look of pure hate, despite the fact that he was getting finger-fucked wide open by the Minister on whose lap he currently sat and rocked and writhed. 

"And why was that, von Guggenheimr?" Von Aegir stood now, and von Vestra returned to his previous kneeling position. His glare never abated even as his hole was openly penetrated and breached. If von Vestra was feeling pleasure, it was contained fully within his body, not revealed by his face or voice. 

"I-I already told you, Prime Minister von Aegir, our harvests were insufficient. M-my people were punished...adequately...but still the number of vegetables they harvested...w-was...." 

"I tire of this farce." Suddenly, the Prime Minister's eyes were steely, his posture straight and rigid. "Hound, tell the man what he stands accused of." 

"A-accused?" von Guggenheimr stammered, but von Vestra's icy tones stop him. 

"Baron Bertolomew von Guggenheimr, you are hereby accused of offering sanctuary to members of a group known as 'those who slither in the dark'. Furthermore, you are accused of allowing these vile individuals to perform illegal Crest-based experimentation on your people. Your 'poor harvest' was a result of these deaths, not 'natural causes' or 'acts of the Goddess'. Do not disrespect the Prime Minister by feigning innocence. Even as we speak, my spies are infiltrating your manor and disposing of your...guests. You, on the other hand, will not be going to back to your manor. You will be held in prison here until the Emperor has decided how she sees fit to punish you." 

Somehow, he had managed to get through that entire speech without changing his expression or allowing his voice to crack. This despite the fact that he was being thoroughly and roughly fucked throughout, and that von Aegir's face had twisted and his body spasmed with release right around the part where von Vestra had mentioned sending his spies to the Guggenheimr mansion. As he finished, he stilled, as though waiting for permission. 

It was granted. "Very good, my pet. Excellently done. You shall be rewarded." Von Aegir leaned down and unclasped the ring from around his "hound's" cock. Almost immediately, von Vestra came, the puddle of his sticky release landing at their unfortunate "guest's" feet. 

Von Guggenheimr didn't protest. He knew he was well and truly "gotten". He could do nothing but stare moodily into the innocuously pure-white smear of von Vestra's cum, waiting patiently as the pair cleaned up, kissed for what seemed an unnecessarily long time, and then _finally_ got around to summoning the guards who would escort the guilty Baron to jail. 


End file.
